


Aperitif

by owlmoose



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Backstory, F/M, First Kiss, Kiss Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-15
Updated: 2011-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of their wedding, Ashe and Rasler take a moment for themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aperitif

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 round of the Final Fantasy Kiss Battle. The prompt, which I love, was Ashe/Rasler, "It's not his first kiss, but he's positive it is hers."

"A toast!" The cry rings out through the hall, as such shouts have echoed against the stones of Rabanastre's palace throughout the last several hours of feasting. This time it comes from Duke Azelas, one of the foremost peers of the realm, and he stands, a flagon of wine gripped tightly in his hand. "A toast to the future King and Queen of Dalmasca!" Every glass in the hall is lifted, and as the duke tosses his head back to drain his drink, every man and woman in the hall follows suit.

Rasler does the same, drinking deeply from his glass, then setting it aside to be refilled. With a glance to his future father-in-law on his left, his bride-to-be on his right, he rises, hands gripping the table for balance as subtly as he might. "Lords and ladies of Dalmasca, I thank you for such a warm welcome to your city. I look forward to many nights of celebration in the years to come. Please, be welcome to the rest of the evening, but for now I beg your leave so that Princess Ashelia and myself might retire and prepare for our wedding day."

The response is a rousing cheer, a stamping of feet that shakes the room to the rafters. Rasler finishes his wine, then holds a hand out to Ashe, who takes it, allowing herself to be drawn up from her chair. She smiles at him, shyly, then turns a warmer look out over the room. "I thank you as well, on behalf of myself as well as my father. We will look forward to seeing you all again on the morrow." Together, they turn away from the crowd; hands still joined, Rasler helps Ashe step down from the dais. Her fingers are soft and warm, and comforting as they slip up his arm and settle into the crook of his elbow.

They walk slowly through the hallways and into a courtyard near the entrance to Ashe's rooms. After hours in an increasingly-stuffy hall, the fresh air is bracing, and Rasler breathes deeply of it. Moonlight glows off the pale stone walls, and Ashe pauses. "May I--" She stops herself, and a light wash of pink comes to her cheeks. "Perhaps this is rude, and I should not ask."

Rasler shakes his head. "My lady, very soon you will be my wife. Please, let there be no secrets or awkwardness between us."

Ashe tips her head to the side, then smiles up at him. There is no coquettishness to the motion, no artifice, and the sight warms Rasler's thoughts. "I was only wondering how you seem to be so clear headed. I took only a sip of wine at each toast, but you drained your glasses with the rest, and yet you stand easily on your feet."

"Ah, well." Rasler smiles back. "'Tis true, you are not expected to keep up with the drinking as I am. But as soon as it came clear that I would pass my limit long before the meal was ended, I pulled our serving girl aside and asked that she keep my wine well-watered. I did not relish the thought of spending tomorrow that much the worse for drink."

"I see." Ashe dips her chin slightly. "I had always wondered how my father managed at these affairs. I should not be surprised if he employs a similar tactic."

Rasler feels her hand tighten on his arm, and at the contact, he realizes that, for the first time, they are alone. During these months of courtship, they have spent much time together, growing to know each other, but never without the presence of a chaperone, or a guard, or her ladies-in-waiting. He turns and takes her hand in his once again, lifting it to his lips for a light kiss; he has kissed her thusly in public many times, but tonight he lets himself linger just a shade longer than usual. Her eyes are on his, pools of blue shining in the pale moonlight. "My lady, if I might be so bold--"

She does not give him a chance to finish the question; instead, she comes close and, standing on tiptoe, presses her mouth to his cheek. Her kiss is swift, the sort of peck one might bestow upon a sibling or an elderly aunt, but still her lips are soft and warm, and Rasler finds himself wishing that he might sweep her into his arms and kiss her properly.

And so, after a quick look around the courtyard to ensure that they are not observed, he does. Not the full embrace that he has longed for since the day they first met, but he wraps an arm about her waist and pulls her near, lowering his mouth to hers. First she freezes, and then she melts, her lips moving against his. It is not his first kiss, but he's positive it is hers -- she responds to him by instinct, not practice, and just as she starts to mold herself to him, her conscious mind seems to take over, and she pulls back, out of his half-embrace.

"That-- was nice," she murmurs, and glances up at him, a spot of high color coming to her cheeks. "I hope I did... all right."

"More than all right." Rasler wants nothing more than to hold her again, to keep kissing her until the moon sets and the sun rises, but he contents himself with another gentle brush against her fingers. "But the hour is late. We will have more than enough time to continue this tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Ashe nods, then laces her fingers through his, the most intimate gesture she has ever allowed herself with him. "And all the other tomorrows we will share."

Rasler's heart picks up a beat, and he squeezes her hand back. "I look forward to them all." He releases her, just in time to notice a guard entering the other side of the courtyard -- Ashe's escort, no doubt. With a bow, he backs away. "Good night, my lady."

"Good night." She responds with a warm nod, then takes her place at the side of the guard, disappearing into the castle with only one brief look back.

Left alone with his memories of the night, and his dreams of the nights to come, Rasler sits on a stone bench and relaxed, letting the effects of the wine take him as he gazes upward to the desert stars, glittering with promise.


End file.
